


Elvenking

by tamarieladoness



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamarieladoness/pseuds/tamarieladoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I- I need to find someone. Please, stay here. I will come back for you."<br/>Bard goes to find Thranduil after the Battle of the Five Armies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elvenking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleLynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hand in Hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3107756) by [LittleLynn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn). 



Bard ran through the narrow streets, skirting quickly around the injured, offering only a nod and a small smile before hurrying on.

The sounds of battle rang in his ears, the clash of iron and steel almost deafening. The hot reek of blood, both fresh and drying fell heavy in his throat, almost choking him.

Him and the other men, along with some of the the Mirkwood elves, were fighting the orcs in the narrow, crumbling streets of Dale while the Dwarves and the other elves were busy fighting near Erebor.

Bard continued to run through the streets, trusty sword in hand, cutting down any orcs that ran into his path.

He could not find his children.

"Bain! Tilda! Sigrid! Where are you?!" He shouted frantically, the ash and dust in the air rendering him half-blind even as threw an arm across his face to block it.

He had last seen them when he told them to run from the oncoming surge of orcs, but now that they were being pushed back, he needed to see if they were alright.

"Da?" Sigrid's voice suddenly came from behind him, and he whirled around, almost falling to his knees as relief took him. He took his children into his arms, holding them close to his chest.

Suddenly realising they were in the centre of an on going battle, he started to get to his feet.

"We need to go somewhere safe. Come on." Letting go of his children, Bard quickly scanned the area for safe places to hide. An abandoned house caught his eye, almost hidden on the side of one of the taller buildings, and he ran towards it, his children following swiftly behind him.

He herded them into the small kitchen and started to make for the door but they were reluctant to let him leave.

"Da! You can't go back out there! You don't need to!" Sigrid was hugging Tilda close to her, and Bain was almost making for the door himself, one foot already forwards.

"I- I need to find someone. Please, stay here. I will come back for you." Bard ran back into the streets trying desperately to ignore his children's calls. He knew they would be safe there, safer than out in the city at least, and he needed to get to the main part of the battle.

Drawing his sword, he swiftly removed the head of an orc coming towards him, and slit the throat of another. He continued to fight his way through the swarm of creatures, slashing away at his enemies.

Turning a corner, he suddenly saw what he was looking for. But it was not what he wanted to see. Not in that way.

He saw the great elk fall, and the bodies of the golden-clad elves scatter the ground. He saw the pale gleam of the Elvenking's sword as it clattered to the cold floor, and watched helplessly as the king disappeared from his line of sight, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of orcs running towards him.

"No!" Bard screamed, fighting recklessly to get past the fresh wave of soldiers. But it was no use.

He was pushed back further and further until he could no longer see even the great elk's enormous body, and the intricate golden armour of the elves changed to the haphazard steel of the orcs.

Their bodies covered the ground, and Bard was almost ready to give up when the few men remaining came to fight with him. Together, they cut down the last orcs and sagged to the ground with equal amounts of relief and exhaustion.

The sounds of battle gradually faded and slowly, those unable to fight started to creep out of their hiding places, many weeping when the bodies of their husbands, wives, parents and children were found.

Bard slowly stood up, and began to make his way through the corpses, heading for the place where he saw the Elvenking fall. The body of the Elk still lay there, and there were more elven bodies than before.

But the sword, the king's sword, was nowhere to be found. Neither was his body. Hope started to creep into Bard's heart, a treacherous thing that drowned out his mind screaming at him to think rationally.

Nobody could have survived that, right? _But he could..._ his heart whispered, and Bard ran forwards, towards the archway where the king had disappeared.

Behind it were the bodies of the orcs that had attacked, alongside the bodies of the elves that had given their lives in protection of their king. Bard followed the trail of corpses, making his way through around the outskirts of Dale, finding no one.

Soon enough, however, he saw a flash of armour, the glint of polished metal, and ran towards it.

The Elvenking was sitting on the steps of a ruined building, staring at the bodies of the fallen elves. His eyes were unblinking, filled with some sort of unbelieving despair.

Bard made his way towards him, sitting carefully by his side. He made no attempt to speak, relieved to just be near. He also understood his pain, although for elves it was worse.

They could only die when killed, and lived forever unless they gave up their immortality. Bard had seen enough death in his time, and his life was nothing compared to the life of an elf like the king. He could not even imagine how much pain he had seen.

The Elvenking slowly turned his head to look at Bard, despair in his eyes fading to a soft grief, and he leant his head against Bard's chest. Bard put an arm around his shoulders, and rested his against the king's.

They sat like that for a while, finding comfort in each other's arms. The king then lifted his head, and seemed to only just notice the blood covering Bard's worn clothes, his eyes flashing with concern.

"You're-"

"It's not mine." Bard interrupted him, and the king relaxed back against Bard's chest.

Bard rested a hand against his silken hair, and began to gently run his hand through the strands as the Elvenking began to hum quietly. It was peaceful, sitting there, even amidst the remnants of a battle.

Soon enough, however, they knew they had to move, even if they were loathe to. Bard began to stand, and the king got to his feet alongside him, moving with an unconscious ease.

The king began to turn away and Bard quickly reached out a hand, grabbing the king's arm. He quickly pulled him close, pressing a chaste kiss to the Elvenking's surprised lips.

When he pulled back, the king was staring at him with an unidentifiable expression on his face.

"What was that for?"

Bard smiled softly, and brushed a hand along the king 's pale cheek.

"I'm just glad you're alive, my king."

"You are still hesitant to call me by my name, I see."

"I am sorry. A force of habit."

"Though I suppose 'my king' does have a nice ring to it," Bard chuckled, and leaned forwards to claim another soft kiss, the king's sweet laughter echoing in his ears. "Would you do me the honour of returning to my tent with me?"

"It would be a pleasure, Thranduil."


End file.
